The days are excruciatingly short here in the Northeast right now. Typically what happens is that it gets to be full dark around 4:30 PM, and then we start yawning at 5:30, after which follows this few hours of limbo existence where we don’t feel like doing much of anything, but we still force ourselves to stay up, so we don’t wake up in the middle of the night.

It sucks harder than your mom, and I think we all know how talented and strong she has become with her many years of intense training.

This is a lazy post which will conclude with a series of humorous images. There will be no pie. However, complimentary coffee and juice are available in the lobby.

There are certain words and phrases we occasionally encounter when reading that we sort of know their meaning. We might have looked up them up once in the distant past, know a root word or understood by intuition the intended meaning within the context it was used. “Apropos of nothing” is one of those phrases for me. I don’t think I’ve ever uttered those words in conversation. I may have imagined myself saying them somewhere in the English countryside before politely asking someone to please pass the Grey Poupon mustard. Well, after a lifetime of waiting for the moment, I finally wrote the words in an email to someone where I linked a story about the use of poppy seed oil to increase fertility. I’d never heard of that technique before and was still processing the concept in my head when I wrote a friendly email and just had to share the story. Which is what prompted the “apropos of nothing” lead in to the link.

So what’s it mean? Stolen from the world wide web I give you this definition:

Ok fine, I made that last one up but the rest are 100% real stories that were covered wall to wall by the very serious gossip columnists we pretend are reporters and journalists. And you trogdilytestrogdelitestrogderplites losers decided to make the funneh about foreskin.

I’m going on a short journey, straight to your heart. And maybe your other internal organs. Do you like Monty Python movies?

Tuesday is already a garbagey day that feels like that pile of lint in the corner of your jacket pocket. An extra-crappy Winter Tuesday is more like when you reach into the junk drawer and your finger hits a tack. Not the end of the world, but just kind of extra-shitty and annoying.

You know when you’re walking barefoot across the bedroom and you hit your pinky toe on the bedframe corner at full stride and you collapse in friggin’ agony for thirty seconds? That shit almost always happens on Tuesday.

That’s when you need a funny bunny.

Aww, he likes the parsley in the garde- SHIT! Scott! Shoot it! SHOOT!

Thank you and have a lovely day. Try to forget what day it is and concentrate on the bunnies.

Mare’s Musings

February 18, 2018

I’ll tell you, I had to turn the Olympics off last night. The gay overload with the gay flags and gayness and the gay skier and the all about gay was too much for me. How does being gay have ANYTHING to do with skiing unless you’re purposefully landing on a pole?